


Draught of Love

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: DaveJadeSwap, F/M, Potterstuck, feat. cameos of Terezi Roxy and Vriska, wooo hp au ftw!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Potions class, the bane of many poor students' lives and yet actually kind of fun!  For example this week in Potions, Jade's going to be learning how to make Amortentia.  Exciting, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draught of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeregrineWilliams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineWilliams/gifts).



> weeelllll here's my gift for davejadeswap 2k15!! it's a hp au and uh it has been a while since i've read/watched hp but i still loved the idea, sooo... yeah. oops? pls excuse any glaring hp canon errors ;n; i hope you like it! (i totally might extend this into more than just a oneshot, but for now it stands as is. c: )

 “I don’t know, Rose,” You give her a little sheepish smile accompanied with a slight shrug of your shoulders, tossing your hair over one before the wind blows it in your face again anyway.  “History of Magic just ... isn’t really my thing!  I like Potions and Herbology and Transfiguration a lot more anyway, to be honest.”

“Oh, very well,” your best friend says, shaking her head at you.  “To each her own, I suppose, though I can’t imagine _why_ you mightn’t like history.”

“I don’t really dislike it,” you defend.  “I just like other stuff better!  Like in herbology, we’re talking about magical methods of cultivation!  Just imagine it, maybe over Christmas break I can go home and plant my own mandrake garden!”

One of Rose’s pale eyebrows rises ever so slightly.  “Pardon me for being the hypothetical wet blanket here, but is that really a good idea at home?”

You laugh, waving a hand to dispel her concerns. “No worries, Grandpa already has some spells on the greenhouse at home anyway.  I’ve accidentally blown stuff up outside and it’s been fine!  Besides, come on, think about it!  Mandrake garden!”

The wind picks up again, and Rose pulls the headband out of her hair, tossing her head and closing her eyes.  She takes a moment to respond, just enjoying the sunlight, before she replies, “Mm, alright, ‘mandrake garden’ is quite the compelling argument.”

A grin draws itself on your face, too.  The wind softly blowing through your hair just feels _so good_ , and even though you didn’t get a lot of studying done on this study picnic, you feel no regrets.  It’s gorgeous out here and you love spending time outside!  It was a great way to spend part of your weekend.  “I knew you’d come around eventually!”

“Just think about it,” Rose says, and you can hear laughter bubbling up in her voice, “you could have your own herb and magical plant garden that you use to brew your own potions, and you could be the ‘witchiest’ witch out there.  Imagine how many Muggles would dare each other to visit you on Halloween!”

“Pffftahahaha!”  You flop down on your back, letting your head fall into her lap.  “I wouldn’t be a _scary_ witch!”

“No, just a weird but lovable one,” she agrees.  Then she wrinkles her nose and runs a finger through your hair, her hand coming back up with a leaf held delicately between two fingers.  “Let me guess, flower crown again?”

“Oh, whoops.  I guess that came out and I didn’t notice.”

Rose sighs, shaking her head.  “I wonder how many more you’ve got in there, hm?”

You beam innocently up at her.  “Well, I have absolutely no problem with you combing my hair to make sure there’s no more leaves!”  You love people playing with your hair, and Rose knows it, and you know Rose knows, too.  She huffs a laugh at you, too.

“Please,” she says, “I have more useful things to do.  Get someone jobless for that task, why don’t you?  Maybe Dave?”

Her voice has taken on a sly edge, her lips curled into a smirk, because she knows she’s so got you there.  Is your face red?  Oh, come on, you have a feeling you’re _so_ blushing.  Not fair!

“Hush!!  I’m not gonna go up to Dave and be like ‘play with my hair please!’, that would just be weird!”

Rose’s smirk widens as she tosses the leaf aside, letting it be swept away on the wind.  “I don’t think he would mind, though,” she says, picking up a lock of your hair idly.  “Maybe you two could go on a little plant date, you can make all the flower crowns and whatever else your heart desires and then he can spend the time picking twigs out of your hair.

“Rooose!” you whine, swatting her hand playfully.  “I’m not going on a date with Dave!”

“Why not?” she asks, innocently tilting her head to one side.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, you know, _like_ me,” you mumble, your face going even redder.  Dammit! 

Rose purses her lips in that way that means she’s scheming about something.  Oh no.  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, were I you.”

* * *

Back in Ravenclaw Tower after a long day of classes, you sigh wearily and collapse back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.  There’s a knot of nervousness in your stomach as you glance at the calendar, noting that you have one week til the full moon.  Only one week... it feels so short.

Ugh, partial lycanthropy is such a _pain_.

Groaning, you roll over onto your stomach, trying your best to ignore the scars that you know run across your lower back; the werewolf that attacked you wasn’t fully transformed, so you aren’t quite a full werewolf, but he hadn’t been fully human either, so you’re not just scarred.  It’s a weird anomaly of a situation and it really just sucks.  You still have nightmares about it, even though you can’t really remember it well because it happened when you were _so young._

Basically, as far as you’ve been able to tell, on the full moon, you get very moody, thinking is hard, memories are hard, and you kind of want to eat more meat and do it kind of _violently_ , too.  You always avoid your friends at that time.  You’re afraid of what you might do, if you might be able to pass this on to them if you’re not careful.

At least they all know now, and understand why you’re so wary and hesitant at that time; explaining it last year was, well... hard.  Rose had figured you out first; she’d been the one to notice how you always became reclusive once a month or so.  And then she’d quietly confronted you, and—with your permission—told John and Dave.

And, to your shock, it didn’t change their opinions of you at all!  They’d been more understanding and that was all, they didn’t want to leave you and they weren’t afraid of you either.  John was upset you didn’t say anything, but it was because he apparently couldn’t believe that you were suffering alone this whole time.

Anyway, you have one week.

You’re okay for now!  It’s fine.

Lifting your arm to your eyes, you check the time on your watch and then push yourself halfway to a sitting position with a groan.  Dinner’s soon, and your housemates are probably already all down there!  You don’t want to keep anyone waiting—

“Jade?  You in here?”  Roxy pokes her head in.  She’s Rose’s older sister, but Rose isn’t in Ravenclaw, she’s in Slytherin, so you see Roxy more often outside of class.

“Right here,” you say, giving her a tired wave.  “Wow, I should not have stayed up so late on that Astronomy paper last night...”

“You had to write a paper in Astronomy?” Roxy asks, looking faintly disgusted.  “That’s gross.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Tell me about it.  Anyway, did you need something?”

“Not me,” she shakes her head, a conspiratorial grin sliding across her face.  “There’s a certain Gryffindor at the door wanting to see you.”

“What?”  You sit up fully, eyes going wide.  “You mean Dave?”

Smooooth, Jade.  That didn’t sound like you were kind of hopeful and very flustered at all!

“Yuuup,” Roxy grins, popping the p and hanging on the door.  “Comin’, or should I tell him to go away so you can take a nap?”

“I’m coming!” you chirp, swinging your legs off the bed and not bothering to find your shoes.  Roxy laughs and holds the door open.

At the main door to Ravenclaw Tower, you hesitate for just a second before stepping out. There he is, nonchalantly leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe.  You can’t help but smile just at the sight of him.  “Hi, Dave!”

At the sound of your voice he lifts his head, giving you a half-smile in return. “Hey,” he says.  “How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” you shrug slightly, feeling a bit more energetic and kind of bouncy on your feet now, “I’ve just had a looong day.  Class is tiring!”

“Hah,” he snorts, “you don’t have to tell me.  Goddamn Potions is going to be the fucking death of me, I swear, it’s such a _pain_.”

“I like potions!” you defend.

“Yeah, I know,” he grins, pushing away from the wall, “it’s because you’re off your rocker.  You’ll be some kind of crazy gunslinging grandma who makes potions and weird shit instead of baking cookies like grandmas are supposed to.  Hell, I don’t know if you’ll even get a rocker, you’re that far off it.”

Your response is to lightly jab him in the side with your elbow, laughing. “I’ll be the coolest grandma you’ll ever meet, just you wait!”

“Sure,” he rolls his eyes, then starts walking back down the stairs.  You blink.

“Is that all you came here for?” you ask, confused.  He stops, turning around after a second.

“Oh!  Right.  Uh, I was thinkin’ of going for a walk, and I was wondering if you wanna come, actually,” he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head. “And then I kinda forgot to ask, but hey, that so isn’t my fault.”

“Sure it isn’t,” you tease, “and just like that’s not your fault, I’ll be a nice calm cookie-making grandma.  But yes I’d love to come!!”

“Great,” he grins up at you and holds out a hand, which you happily take.  “Just a nice little stroll around the castle or something before dinner.  Cool.”

You beam.  Oh, you _love_ your friends, just being with them is enough to chase away your inner demons for an evening, and really, from one day to the next, what more do you need?

* * *

“Ugh,” Dave groans, letting his head thunk against the table.  You glance down at him sympathetically.  It’s hard wood, that’s gotta have hurt!  “Ow.  Fuck.  Ugh,  _why_ is this a required class?”

“Because it’s fun, stupid,” Vriska says, from the bench in front of yours.  Even though you agree that potionmaking is fun, you kind of want to smack her for that attitude and the rude way she said it—who even asked her???  “You can learn how to control people and manipulate, like, _everything_!  Isn’t it great?”

... Yup, no doubt about it, that one belongs in Slytherin for sure.  You spare her a distasteful look, she winks at you, you resist the urge to roll your eyes like Rose, and she finally turns back around, evidently deeming the conversation over and/or unimportant.  Now that she’s not looking, you _do_ roll your eyes.  There’s a little snort from the table, or more accurately the head that hasn’t yet risen from it.

“It’s useful knowledge, no matter what field you’re going into!” you answer Dave chirpily.  “Besides, we’re making amortentia today, it’s one of the advanced class exclusive recipes!  Isn’t that at least a _little_ exciting?”

He lifts his head and gives you a little smile (!!! Those smiles are so rare, but gosh he is so cute) and nods. “Yeah, I guess.  A little.  I mean, hey, it makes you happy, so I guess it can’t be all bad.  I mean, not that—okay I was totally about to put my foot in my fucking mouth, so glad I caught that there, and you know what, I’m gonna just. Stop talking now.  In case I don’t catch it the second time.”

Terezi snickers from in front of you, and you know she and Vriska probably are still listening in a bit.  You resolutely decide then and there you’re gonna ignore them all period long!

It’s not that you dislike them, really—especially Terezi, she’s not half bad when she’s not with Vriska, who sometimes is cool and sometimes rubs you the wrong way—but Potions is your favorite class for a variety of reasons.  Not only is it _really cool_ to learn the applications of some of what you’ve grown in the Herbology greenhouses, but also, well, your bench partner is a certain... yeah.  Being partnered with Dave is not bad at all.  Hehe.

“Okay,” you say, drawing yourself back to the present, “wanna get this going? The sooner we get done with the potion the sooner we can get out of here,” you add, just because you _know_ he’s looking forward to the dessert at lunch today.  He’s always looking forward to dessert.

“Sure,” he replies, squaring his shoulders and looking at the empty cauldron as if it’s Public Enemy No. 1.  “Let’s make some goddamn amortentia.”

Yes!  You clap your hands together excitedly, clasping them under your chin and nodding. “That’s the spirit!”

“Right.”  He turns to you, the resolve in his stance crumbling as he tilts his head to one side and asks, “... So, what’s the first step?”

“Didn’t you do the reading—oh, never mind, of course you didn’t,” you shake your head, sighing, and then bop the top of his lightly with a chiding hand.  “Okay, I have the list of ingredients.  Here’s what we’ll need...”

By the end of the class period, you have a nice cauldron of pearlescent liquid shimmering in front of you.  The steam looks almost rainbow, diffracting light in all these many ways, and eagerly you lift a hand to waft a bit towards yourself to smell.  Oh, it’s delightful—there’s pumpkin pie, an ocean breeze that somehow seems to say _warmth, beach, island, home_ , and ... something else, you’re not entirely sure what it is, but it smells familiar too.  You take a deep breath, inhaling it as much as you can—it smells _so good!_ —and try to identify that last scent.

Wait a minute.  It’s a little different—oh, dammit.

“Dave,” you complain, “did you take a shower in cologne or something this morning?  I can hardly smell the potion, it smells like your jacket after the Yule Ball last year instead!”

“Yeah right!” he retorts defensively. “As if you could smell that over how much fucking fruity shampoo ‘n’ shit you’re throwing at me.  It’s like you’re trying to drown me in some goddamn strawberry coconut honey monster, seriously, Jade.”

In front of you, Terezi starts snickering.  You wrinkle your nose, both at her and at Dave.  “I didn’t even use fruity shampoo this morning, I ran out of that last week!”

“Yeah, then what the hell smells like your shampoo?  It literally smells like your shampoo.”  He folds his arms.

“I don’t smell that at all, mister cologne for water!” you retort, taking a deep breath of the amortentia’s vapors again.  Mmmm......... pumpkins, ocean, home, Dave’s cologne—wait.

_Wait_.

Waaaaaaaaaaait just a minute!

“Oh my _god_ ,” you say as realization starts to dawn on you.  “It’s not your _cologne!_  It’s—it’s _your_ cologne!”

“Ah, yes, thanks, Jade,” he says sardonically.  “That definitely clears that up.  Clear as fuckin’ crystal!  If the crystal we’re talking about is, like, I dunno, some kind of jasper or something, whatever crystal is as unclear as goddamn pea soup.”

Ohhhhh noooooooo you are SO not telling him that to you, amortentia smells like _him_.  You—oh god _that’s_ why Terezi’s laughing, oh no she must have told Vriska, and Vriska’s in the same House as Rose, and you’re _never_ going to hear the end of this—!

“I mean—uhm, it’s, it’s nothing,” you stammer hastily.  “I must’ve just mixed it up.  I can smell the potion now,” and then you laugh kind of awkwardly, hoping that didn’t come off as wooden as it felt.  (It felt _very_ wooden.  More wooden than a tree, and you’re not even sure how anything can be more wooden than that!)

“Okay,” Dave agrees in that tone of voice that sounds like you’re a toddler or an idiot.  You elbow his side and he lets out an _oof_ , and you beam at him innocently.  He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and sniffs at the steam himself.  “Yup, that _definitely_ smells like your shampoo.”

“Does—does it?” you breathe, surprised, breathless, mind racing—he smells you in the amortentia?  What does that _mean_?  You have to tell Rose about this!

“Yeah, you don’t smell that at all?”  He gives you a funny look, and your heart flip-flops.  He didn’t do the reading, he doesn’t even know what that means......

Heck, you did do the reading and you have no idea what this means.  The reading was kind of technical and boring, anyway.

“Not really,” you squeak. “It kind of smells like pumpkin pie.”

“I thought it smelled like cologne,” he frowns, furrowing his brow and looking at you oddly.  You freeze and give him your best convincing smile and innocent shrug.

“I must have just misjudged it,” you say serenely.

Just then the clock begins to chime the end of the hour, and the end of class, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt like your life has been so well described by the phrase _saved by the bell_.

* * *

You softly whimper into the couch pillow, feeling the scars on your back throb like they always do around the full moon time.  It was last night, and you’re just recovering from feeling awful.  You hurt, like you always do—you have a feeling it has to do with the partial transformation thing, and your body trying to resist changing but feeling the compulsion to do it anyway, but you’ve never figured out how to really test that hypothesis, so you haven’t done that yet.

Tugging the plush throw up to your chin, you focus on the soft, warm feeling against your skin, under your hands.  It’s more than a little nice to run your fingers over it, albeit kind of weakly because you’re exhausted, and you let yourself sink into the softness for a moment.

Then there’s a sharp rap at the door, twice— _tap tap_.  You’re in the common room on one of the couches, curled up in front of the fire, but you really don’t want to get up... but there might be a poor first-year stuck on the other side, unable to answer a riddle.  You should help them.

“Who is it?” you ask the gargoyle tiredly.

“Dave Strider,” it answers.  “Your young Gryffindor friend.”

“Let him in, please?”

The door swings open and he walks in, his usual suave saunter replaced by body language that radiates concern, from the almost hesitant steps to the hands that subconsciously come up to hover and almost reach for you before he catches himself.

“Hey,” he says simply, dropping into a kneeling position by your side. “Thought I’d drop by and check on you.  How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you answer honestly, closing your eyes. “But better than earlier.”

“That’s ... good to hear, I guess?  The second part, I mean, you feeling like shit is definitely not good to hear.”  In a rare display of affection he reaches over and gently pulls the blanket up over your shoulders; you open your eyes so you can catch his hand and hold it, and to your relief and joy he doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah,” you say softly, leaning your cheek against his palm.  “How was your day?”

“Not too shabby,” he shrugs.  Then he pauses, looking down at you and biting his lip with what you would call nervousness in anyone else.  Maybe apprehension is the better word with Dave?  But that makes no sense, why would he be apprehensive around you?  “Hey, uh... okay, maybe I did have a bit of an ulterior motive in coming up here.  I mean, not just to see you, but...”

Now your curiosity is more than piqued.  “Ulterior motive?”

“Look,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I mentioned the whole Potions thing from the other day to Rose—yeah, I know, bad idea, talking class shit to Rose, right?—and she told me what amortentia is.  And, uh... so, yeah, I guess I already let the cat outta the bag without realizing it when I told you it smelled like your hair, but...”

Is this going where it sounds like it’s going?  You have a feeling it’s going there, and all feelings of shittiness aside there’s a giddy, terrified, exhilarated part of your heart that wants to jump up and take flight.

“I may as well just spell it out I guess.  And yeah I’ll be honest, Rose more or less bludgeoned me into agreeing to do that, but I mean, I’d be lying if I said there’s not a part of me that kinda wants to tell you anyway, so, yeah.”

“Dave,” you interrupt quietly, “what is the ‘it’ here?”

He sucks in a breath this time, looking determinedly at a point somewhere around your left shoulder.  “I,” he says, and your heart pounds wildly, “kind of really really like you, like, romantically and shit?”

IT WENT WHERE IT SOUNDED LIKE IT WAS GOING!!!

You’re so excited that it takes you a second to realize that the reason his face just fell is that you haven’t said anything back.  Crap!  What do you say!

“That’s—I’m—omigosh!”  You squeeze his hand and manage a tired, happy, almost even ecstatic smile for him.  “I, well, remember how I was saying it smelled like your jacket?”

His mouth falls open comically before he shuts it again and says, “Well.”

You giggle, nuzzling his hand slightly.  He hesitates for a second and then leans down and kisses your forehead.  It sends a thrill zinging through you like fire and excitement, and your tired fingers give his a squeeze.

“Hey, Jade?” he breaks the silence a few seconds later. “Wanna go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“... Um, Dave... it’s the beginning of November,” you say.  “I mean, _yes_ , of course, obviously, yes!  But that’s so far away, you goof!”

He shrugs.  “Well, maybe I just wanted to be sure, okay?  Can’t have anyone else snatching up the best girl on campus, not when she’s my... girlfriend.  Right?” His glance at you is unsure but hopeful, and you confirm that hope when you nod, beaming.

“Right!”

“Fuck yes!”  His free hand punches the air and an exultant grin spreads across his face.  “This is definitely the best day ever.”

“Almost perfect,” you agree, glancing at your tired limbs and achy body with a long-suffering sigh.  Too bad you can’t take more painkillers; you’ve had a good dose already and their effect is only so much with lycanthropic afflictions.  Ugh.

“Yeahhh....” Dave frowns slightly.  “Want me to get you some tea or something?”

“That would be marvelous,” you nod. “Please.”

Before he pushes himself to his feet, he leans down and kisses your forehead again, pulling his hand away with reluctance. “Okay,” he says.  “I’ll be back in a minute or two, stay put!” he teases, heading for the door, and you laugh.

“Like I’m going anywhere!”

Sinking back into the couch cushions, you sigh happily as he vanishes beyond the common room again.  He’ll be back soon enough, you know, and this whole new dating thing (it’s real!  You’re dating Dave now!  Holy shit!  It’s real!!) is going to be amazing, and even though you’re tired and you hurt, you feel _wonderful_. 


End file.
